


Scattered Petals

by StarryNox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles/Golden Deer Joint Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, M/M, Multi, NOT teacher/student, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Burn, Twin Byleths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23620588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNox/pseuds/StarryNox
Summary: Edelgard had resolved to walk her bloody path alone, but learns she might not have to after all.Claude had come to Garreg Mach in search of powerful allies, and finds more of them than expected.Change is coming to Fódlan. Paimonia and Byleth find themselves in the middle of it.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan/My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Despite the knights and the clergy bustling around the monastery’s grounds, Garreg Mach feels oddly still, the calm before the storm. In a week, the dormitories will be filled to the brim with students of the Officer’s Academy. Right now, however, there are only the house leaders and their retainers.

“As you all know, the House Leader position comes with many duties,” Professor Seteth, better known to Edelgard as _that woman_ ’s right-hand man, lectures. “It is your duty to ensure that your housemates not only keep up with the academy’s rigorous coursework, but also to see to it that your peers conduct themselves in a manner befitting their position at our prestigious institution. To this end, it is imperative…”

Not for the first time, Edelgard wishes she could have Hubert take her place in the archbishop’s audience chamber. She is suffocating between her uniform and her scarlet tights, thick enough that she needn’t worry about anyone seeing the scars that run up and down her legs. And to think, it is only the Great Tree Moon—she shudders to think about what the monastery will feel like as the summer months rolled in.

A sidelong glance to her new peers tells her that one of them, at least, didn’t seem to be fairing much better. Prince Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus shuffles his weight from foot to foot in a manner that Edelgard’s tutors would have scolded her for. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face, and he occasionally tugs at his collar when Seteth isn’t looking. To her mild irritation, Claude von Riegan ( if that really is his name ) of the Leicester Alliance seems to have no such trouble—he looks downright _comfortable_ despite the stifling atmosphere.

“Now, Seteth, don’t you think we have kept them long enough?” Rhea’s smile is both warm and frigid at once, and Edelgard feels her skin crawl. Her uncle had warned her that the Archbishop wasn’t what she seems, that she was but a monster wearing a human’s face. She looks human enough, Edelgard supposes, but the coldness in her gaze does little to convince Edelgard that she isn’t a threat. “With the three future leaders of Fódlan attending the academy this year, we have a unique opportunity to forge bonds between our countries. I pray that you will all take advantage of your time here to join hands with your fellow rulers as fellow believers and lay the groundwork for years of peace to come.”

They’re nothing but pretty, empty words, but Edelgard will force a smile upon her features and agree if it means getting out of this room.

“Yeesh,” Claude says once the wooden doors the audience chamber have swung shut behind them. “I know we’re the House Leaders and all, but they’re really laying it on thick.” Edelgard hums in agreement, while Dimitri looks scandalized. Though she’s been acquainted with him for only a few hours, she knows this—Claude is nigh unreadable when he wants to be, while Dimitri seems incapable of anything less than wearing his heart upon his sleeve.

“Claude! It is our duty as house leaders to—”

“Lead an example for our peers, yeah, yeah, I know,” Claude replies, crossing his arms behind his head. “I _was_ paying attention, Your Princeliness. Speaking of which, Lady Rhea’s idea might not be half bad.” Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “You know, the one about spending some time together. We _are_ spending a year working together, after all.” He wears an easy smile, but Edelgard doesn’t trust it in the slightest—not when it fails to meet his eyes.

“Yes, I agree!” Dimitri agrees immediately, seemingly oblivious. “It’ll be nice to know each other, don’t you think, Edelgard?”

Faintly, she remembers laughter. Of pulling a shawl tight around her shoulders despite it being summer in Fhirdiad and chasing after a blonde boy. Why she thinks of it, she isn’t sure. She pushes away the memory, both for the bitter taste it leaves in her mouth and for its hazy, unreal quality and plasters a false smile of her own upon her features.

“Very well,” she says at last, knowing she has no good reason to refuse. “I accept.”

* * *

Despite her initial misgivings, Edelgard finds that the other house leaders are…agreeable, at least in small doses. Dimitri does his best to catch her eye with all the subtlety of an ox, much to Claude’s apparent amusement. It irritates her—the staring and the teasing both. What the prince of Faerghus could want with her, she hasn’t the faintest idea, and she refuses the entertain Claude’s conjecture of love at first sight.

“Edelgard, please,” he says, having caught her alone after three days of trying. She can, begrudgingly, admire his tenacity even as she wishes he would direct it towards quite literally anything else—not that there is much else for them to do at the moment. They’d made quick work of the pre-semester agenda set by the church, and the rest of their duties as house leaders won’t begin until the rest of the students arrive. “I don’t understand—have I done something to displease you? Why won’t you—”

“You have done nothing wrong,” she assures him curtly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have business to attend to.” And she sweeps away from him with all the dignity she can muster, having managed to somehow wrench her wrist free from his ( absurdly strong ) grip.

Claude later tells her, off-handedly, that he found Dimitri looking rather like a kicked puppy not too long after. She denies any hand in the matter, of course. There is a small part which feels a little guilty, but she stamps it down firmly. If she cannot so much as walk away from a peer without carrying the burden of regret, then she will never be able to bring about the change she seeks.

Even so, the arrival of the rest of the students is a relief. Between their duties as house leaders and Hubert’s presence deterring those wishing for idle chatter, she has plenty of excuses not to make friends with the other heirs.

* * *

Hubert’s foreboding shadow has benefits beyond spurning the advances of unwanted peers—that others avoid them, heads askance, out of fear of provoking even the specter of his ire means that they can speak relatively freely despite standing in the heart of Garreg Mach.

“There’s really nothing?” she asks, frowning at Hubert. Her retainer shakes his head, looking repentant.

“It is as if he suddenly stepped out of the shadows,” he muses, giving her a meaningful look. She exhales softly, her gaze tracking the boy with the golden cape as he settles under a tree in the courtyard. That Hubert, for all the connections she is not strictly supposed to know about, could not find a single thing on the leader of the Golden Deer has that unsettled feeling in her gut growing only colder.

_“Word from Derdriu is that House Riegan has found itself a new heir.” Edelgard sets down her teacup, china clinking elegantly but not loud enough to be uncouth, and regards the man wearing her uncle’s face solemnly. “I hear he bears the Crest of Riegan—it is assumed that he is the son the long-missing Tiana von Riegan.” Something cold settles in her stomach, but she does her best not to let it show, not when her uncle is watching her with cool eyes._

_“I see.”_

_“If you ask me,” her uncle continues mildly, “I find it all rather suspicious. Everyone knows House Riegan is in decline, yet they manage to procure an heir of unknown origins seemingly out of the blue. It’s quite a mystery.”_

_“Even to you, uncle?” she asks, knowing that there are others like him, who wear the faces of trusted nobles._

_“His name is Claude. Claude von Riegan.” Her uncle’s smile is all teeth, and the cold feeling drops like a stone._

_“I see,” she replies demurely, lifting her teacup for another sip. Bergamot, her favorite. She derives a small comfort from the fact that he always chooses it when he visits, even though she knows that he doesn’t enjoy the taste—as always, his tea remains untouched._

_Still, she is plotting. They will not have another country, not if she can help it. When the crown is hers and the Flame Emperor has reforged the world, she will track down this Claude von Riegan and end his false existence herself._

Edelgard shakes herself from the memory, her lips pursed. It has been nearly a week since she met the ( supposed ) Riegan heir, and he remains as mysterious as ever. If Dimitri is guileless, then Claude is the opposite. And though he seems to enjoy stirring the pot a little too much for her liking, she cannot deny that he’s the sort who draws people to him. It’s a strength that she envies and fears all at once.

“I would like to believe that he isn’t one of them,” she confesses at last. “But if he is, we shall cross that bridge when we get there.” Hubert nods, bowing slightly. “What of our other plans?”

“ _He_ has been informed of his role. Everything is going according to plan.”


	2. Chapter 2

All in all, Claude is rather skeptical about this entire ‘team building’ excursion. In his experience, outings like these make for convenient opportunities for _someone_ to go missing—himself, in particular. He’s seen that trick more times than he’d like to remember ( three, each attempt a different cousin. Really, one would think they’d compare notes about this sort of thing ). And while the Knights of Seiros are one of the foremost military forces in all of Fódlan, if not _the_ foremost, he trusts them about as far as he can throw them. Given the sheer amount of armor some of them wear, that’s not very far. And besides, their job is to supervise from a distance—their encampment is set up far enough away that he, Edelgard, and Dimitri are more or less on their own, even if they’re close enough that a good holler will have them running to their rescue. After all, he thinks with a wry smile, it’d look pretty bad if the knights managed to lose not one but _all_ _three_ heirs to Fódlan’s ruling families.

Despite his misgivings, he has to admit that the time away from the monastery is more than welcome, and so is the chance to observe his fellow house leaders without their faithful shadows tailing them at every turn. More than that, he knows there are some things which can only be learned outside of the carefully structured environment of Garreg Mach Monastery.

Like the fact that Edelgard cannot pitch a tent to save her life. Neither can Professor Ivan, for that matter, which leads Claude to question why he’s here in the first place. Then again, he’s not sure what he was expecting from a man who is so clearly an academic—not a terrible thing, given that he’s a professor, but perhaps a little worrying seeing as the Officer’s Academy is, well, a _military school_. Maybe it’s his Almyran upbringing talking, but he’s of the opinion that the art of war, may they never need to use it, ought to be taught by people who’ve seen more of combat than a mere sparring match.

Then again, he thinks, hiding a wince, Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela don’t seem to be that much better in that regard.

In any case, he sets up his own tent with little issue—sure, the design is a little different from what he’s used to, but the process is easy enough to figure out. After tossing his bed roll and other supplies he won’t need until later in the evening into his tent, Claude amuses himself by watching his peers and professor struggle on their own. It’s a toss-up, really, as to whether Edelgard or Professor Ivan is having a worse time of it, but at last Edelgard notices him simply lounging and turns to him with a scowl.

“Would you care to lend some assistance,” she asks with an arched brow, “or do you intend to simply stand there and watch?” He allows his lips to curl into a grin, bringing up his arms to rest behind his head as he regards her.

“You know, you only needed to _ask_. I’m afraid I’m no Hubert, able to cater to your every whim without so much as a word.” Her expression is distinctly unamused, and Claude decides not to goad her further, lest he find himself facing too much of her ire. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind, but seeing that he _does_ have to spend the next forty-eight hours or so with more or less only her and Dimitri for company…well, it’s probably in his better interests to remain at least somewhat in their good graces.

“I must admit I’m surprised, Claude,” Dimitri says, having finally managed to pitch his own tent. _His_ problem had been his own strength—one of the ropes supporting his tent had snapped in two ( how he’d managed such a task is beyond Claude ), and he’d had to tie the ends back together, which had been its own problem. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“So I’ve been camping a few times,” he replies with a shrug. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is unusual for someone of our station,” Edelgard points out, her gaze piercing. It’s a look he’s quite familiar with—the look of someone trying to puzzle him out. But he’s long learned to only allow others to see what he’s willing to let them, and he has no intention of changing that now.

“You forget, Princess, that I didn’t exactly grow up the same way that you did.”

“True enough. Since that’s the case, I suppose Dimitri and I will have to follow your lead.” That’s…not exactly what he was hoping for, out of this excursion, but there are worse fates. He might not be _particularly_ familiar with camping in a forest, with Almyra lacking in any like this one, but he’s always prided himself on his ability to adapt to unfamiliar situations.

“Indeed—I’m afraid a sole excursion with the knights in Faerghus does less to prepare one for this kind of situation than I would like,” Dimitri agrees, expression rueful. Briefly, Claude wonders how _any_ group of house leaders survived this team-building activity at all. Most likely, they had a professor who actually knew what they were doing.

“Worry not, Your Highness,” Professor Ivan cuts in, finally having managed his own tent. “I’m quite certain that your experiences will prove useful all the same. Of course, there is also great merit in knowing when to defer to another’s expertise.” He pulls out a small booklet on wilderness survival from his belongings, flipping through it before nodding to himself. “Now let’s see…next, it is important for us to find a water source.”

At that, Edelgard, Dimitri, and he all exchange skeptical looks, and Claude finds himself wondering what kind of credentials are actually needed to teach at the Officer’s Academy.

Ah well. He supposes that, if nothing else, they’ll come out the other end of this knowing which professor they _don’t_ want to teach their class.

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of the afternoon ran smoothly. Professor Ivan settled himself under a tree with a thick academic tome and his wilderness handbook, promising them all that if they get stuck, they can ask him for advice. The three house leaders departed their campsite to collect water, first, and then wood for a fire. After that came securing food—a task that isn’t terribly difficult during the Great Tree Moon. The worst of it was when they spend a good half hour trying to determine whether some berries Dimitri had found were edible, only to agree in the end that it was probably better to play it safe. Naturally, Claude picked a few ( along with some leaves ) for further investigation later—he’s _pretty sure_ that they’re gooseberries, which, if memory serves, can be used in a tincture to help with a common cold. But, well, he’d prefer to check his books before using them in anything.

All the while, he kept up a steady flow of conversation. Dimitri, he’d learned, was delightfully fun to tease, between his tendency to take everything Claude said seriously and the earnest nature of his responses. Edelgard, on the other hand, had a dry sense of humor that Claude rather appreciated. What they had in common was a quick wit. Sure, trading light-hearted snipes at each other in between practical tasks probably isn’t _quite_ what’s intended by team-building exercises, but Claude rather likes this. It’s better than pretending to be all buddy-buddy, at any rate, and he knows he’s not mistaking the amusement which passes across the faces of his companions throughout the day.

With no one in danger of anything more than a little ribbing, Claude feels himself start to…well, _relax_ might not be quite the right word, but he does feel a little more comfortable turning his back to the other two by the time dinnertime rolls around. In fact, he finds himself wanting to be friends with both of them—not that that’s entirely within his control, but…it’d be nice, he thinks.

“Ah!”

He’s shaken from his musings to find Dimitri sitting with a broken knife in his hands—he’d been assigned to preparing the rabbits they’d caught for cooking and…had somehow managed to break the ( rather sturdy ) hunting knife that they’d brought along with them. His cheeks burned in embarrassment, and he grimaced.

“Are you all right, Prince Dimitri?” Professor Ivan was quick to hover over the blond, but he waved away his concerns.

“I’m quite all right. I’m, er, accustomed to it.” A nervous laugh escapes his lips. “I fear I’ve never been very good with delicate tasks. In any case, the blade fell away from me, so there’s no harm done.”

“Surely you don’t break things all the time,” Edelgard says with a frown.

“No, I’m afraid that’s just how it is,” Dimitri replies with a shake of his head. “It’s something to do with my Crest. Anyone who’s known me long enough can attest to the number of broken tools and weapons I’ve left behind.” Claude raises an eyebrow at that. It’s not as if the effects of Crests are _entirely_ foreign to him—he has one of his own, after all—but it’s one of the ( many ) things about Fódlan he feels he has to constantly catch up on.

“There’s no use lamenting it, then,” Edelgard says with a sigh. “I don’t suppose we have an extra?”

“No need, I’ve got it.” Claude pulls the dagger he always carries out of his boot and offers it to the prince. “Just, try not to break that one, yeah? I rather like it.” Dimitri mumbles something that sounds like a promise and returns to his task.

“Oh? Something sentimental, then?” There’s a look in Edelgard’s eye that he’s not quite sure what to make of, but…well, there’s no harm in answering that one.

“My grandfather gave it to me,” he replies honestly with a shrug. “I dunno if I’d go so far to call it _sentimental_ , but…it feels like the sort of thing you should keep.” Edelgard only hums in response.

“Family is still family,” Dimitri says, a bittersweet expression upon his features. That’s right, he’s an orphan, isn’t he? “Even if you aren’t close, it’s important to treasure them, I think. Ah, that is to say, I’ll be sure to be careful with this.”

Not for the first time, Claude is glad that he’s well-versed in maintaining a smile on his face even when he doesn’t feel all that much like smiling. He isn’t immature enough to blame the prince for his ignorance, but… _well_. Family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, sometimes. And while maybe he should be glad that the Blaiddyd heir hadn’t experienced such first-hand, there’s a part of him that can’t help but be jealous. And if he’s reading the way Edelgard’s jaw has tightened ever so slightly, he thinks she might be, too.

“It’s still just a dagger,” he says, voice purposefully light. “And honestly? I’d rather you think of it that way. I’ve snapped quills when I’m nervous—I’d hate to see that happen here.”

“You? Nervous?” Dimitri asks with a raised brow. “Forgive me, but that seems entirely out of character.”

“Indeed…you do come across as rather unflappable,” Edelgard agrees.

“Ha! Well, I do try.” He winks at them, only to receive a slight roll of the eyes in return. “But it happens to all of us every now and then, right? Let’s finish up here before I start getting nervous that we’ll never get supper done.”

* * *

But, alas, it seems that fate won’t allow him to have one camping trip in peace. He’s startled awake by the sound of Edelgard shouting, his hand reaching on instinct for the safely-returned dagger under his bed-roll. Just as well, too—he stumbles to his feet just in time for a brigand to tear through the entrance to his tent, axe in hand.

“Why don’t you die like the good little noble brat that you are?!” And, despite the fact he can hear crashing sounds from the direction of Dimitri’s tent, the clang of axes outside, and Professor Ivan shrieking in terror, a quip falls from his mouth.

“Sorry, but that’s never been my style.” He ducks under the first swipe of an axe, cursing under his breath. The tent’s height doesn’t give him a lot of room to work with, and the sooner he gets outside into the open air, the better. But the brigand, while probably deadly enough, is clearly no trained fighter—the missed swing leaves him open, and Claude wastes no time in sinking his dagger into the man’s gut, grimacing as he wrenches the blade through enough flesh to make the wound fatal.

Somehow, this kind of thing never gets easier. But it’s kill or be killed, and Claude has no intention of meeting the latter fate. With that thought in mind, he pulls his quiver of arrows over his head as he clambers out of the remains of his tent. A quick glance of the situation reveals at least a dozen bandits, each of them out for blood.

“Are you all right?” Edelgard’s voice is tight.

“Aw, were you worried about me, Princess? I promise I’m tougher than I look.” She takes a moment to glare at him before swinging her axe up to meet another brigand’s, Claude backing up a few steps to take the easy shot. Dimitri joins them seconds later. “Where’s Professor Ivan?”

“Professor Ivan has made the _admirable_ decision to flee,” Edelgard replies dryly.

“Then let us hope that he has at least taken the initiative of running towards the Knights’ encampment,” Dimitri says, darting out to meet the next bandit. “That way, we need only hold out until—”

Claude doesn’t even bother to stick around until the end of his sentence. _Like hell_ is he going to take his chances on that.


End file.
